


Crystal Power

by SunAndMoon (LadyMorgaine)



Series: Seventeen AUs [6]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29458800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMorgaine/pseuds/SunAndMoon
Summary: Kim Mingyu, recently fired, gets a job in an occult bookstore. The store is lovely, he's not too clumsy and so far he's not broken anything. Except... what do you do when you're convinced there's a ghost in the shop but your best friend says that it's you going crazy instead?
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Chwe Hansol | Vernon, Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu, MinWon, Minor or Background Relationship(s), WonGyu - Relationship
Series: Seventeen AUs [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1434301
Comments: 10
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As part of trying to remedy the serious writer's block I've had on my longer series, I'm doing a set of smaller writing exercises to prompts. This one came from 'Occult Bookstore', 'Romantic', 'Ghosts' and some more kinks, most of which I ignored once again. This is divided into two parts, with the hard stuff in the second so you can just read the first and ignore the second.

"I don’t see why I have to take your shift just because your shitty boss didn’t give you Valentine’s Day off,” Mingyu complained, shuffling the cards and things in his wallet to look for his rail and bus pass. “Besides, it’s an occult bookstore, I don’t know anything about it and I’m pretty sure everyone’s gonna pick that up right away.”

“You owe me,” Seungkwan said metedly. “I covered for you with Seungcheol that once when you got so drunk you threw up in his laundry machine. I’m calling it in.” His shoulders lifted with a fine shrug. “And my boss isn’t shitty, it’s just literally last minute? Hansolie didn’t know he could get off until an hour ago. C’mon man, _please_.”

Mingyu snorted. “ _Couples_ ,” he muttered before he gave a last sigh. “Fine, _fine_ , just as long as nothing jumps out at me.”

Seungkwan snorted right back. “Stop watching bad American ghost movies.” He stood, hesitated, then leant over to kiss Mingyu on the top of his head. “Thanks,” he muttered a lot more softly. “I really appreciate it.”

Mingyu fought him off, but felt a helpless smile form as he watched Seungkwan run off. _I really do love that little gremlin huh? Look at him being all adult with a boyfriend already. I’m so ready for one too!_

* * *

_17:00_

It was the weirdest, most unsual bookstore Mingyu had ever seen in Korea, but the moment he stepped into the place he loved it. Seungkwan often talked about the feel or spirit of a place; here he could feel it almost, like a warm welcome that beckoned people into the little nooks in the bookstore. There wasn’t a fire in the hearth but it looked as if there should be, and his socked feet dug happily into the pile of the carpeting. There was a tiny coffee shop area to one side near the entrance, complete with a border of paintings, daguerreotypes and little _things_ that beckoned his eyes and fingers.

All in all the place lured even him, famously not a reader, into wanting to discover the books in the odd nooks and turns of the shop.

He stowed his jacket beneath the counter and carefully pulled on the apron and thin gloves Seungkwan had told him about, went to make himself a gigantic hot chocolate and settled in behind the counter, alertly waiting for the next customer.

_19:00_

Mingyu yawned surreptitiously behind his hand. Barring a customer that had come in just now to pick up an order of thick, paper-wrapped books, there hadn’t been anyone in here. Not that he blamed them, the day had been ready to rain earlier and now it looked to be ready for snow. He could already see the streets in the district start losing pedestrians, and he still had four hours to go. Bored and just a little idle, he plucked out his phone to go through Tinder, nose wrinkling as he looked at the options close by.

Eurgh. Not… no. Not him either, and _certainly_ not her. Just… no.

He gave up with a sigh five minutes later and went to make himself another coffee. It really was quiet in here beyond the very soft jazz that sang through the shop.

Four more hours. Four. More. Hours. If Seungkwan wasn’t getting the dicking of his life, was this even worth it?

_21:00_

The streets were officially deserted outside, but Mingyu had never been happier in his life. He had found some kind of book on magical art in one of the stacks, and little marshmallows beneath the kitchen shelf. Perched with the large book on his lap he tried to figure out the angles in the paintings it reproduced, eyes large with amazement.

He had long since gotten used to the creaks of the old building around him. The snow had started to fall very softly, melting almost immediately from the residual heat of the street, but somehow the place had good heating, and all he really needed now was a way to float a book in the air. He was fit, but the book weighed a ton, and he’d be sure to have back pain tomorrow.

_Never mind,_ his mind suggested mellowly. _Look at this one, it’s as if the eyes really are following me around…_

_22:00_

A noise made him jerk his head up from where he had it propped up against one hand, poking idly through the sales receipts for the past week. He frowned and walked forward, only to jump back as he crossed from ‘Naturalist History’ into one of the shadier nooks right at the back of the store. His heart raced and he pinched his eyes shut, but nothing more happened, and when he finally essayed a hesitant peek around the corner he breathed out slowly with relief.

For a moment it had looked like a tall man sitting there in the wingback chair right next to the pile of papers that had toppled; the more he looked now, though, it had been a shadow artfully laid across the chair itself. Meandering closer, he picked up the papers that had fallen and placed them back where they had been, neatening up the stack.

“Honestly,” he mumbled, finally looking around. “Prime napping spot.”

He turned back to the counter lest he be tempted. That chair had been large and looked exactly his size. Still, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling of a pair of wicked eyes watching him wander away, and resolved to joke about it when Seungkwan collected the keys from him tomorrow.

* * *

As luck would have it, not many days after Mingyu watched the shop for Seungkwan, he got fired from his actual job, which was little more than a glorified delivery driver. He didn’t feel very sad about it when he went to get his best friend’s solace. The quaint old bookstore looked even more ‘magical’ than usual when he stepped inside it; Seungkwan had a large supply of things stacked on the large counter: strange semi-precious gem eggs, crystals of all shapes and sizes, bunches of herbs and incense, and a large collection of strange-smelling candles to round it out.

“I got fired,” he pouted the moment he walked in, draping himself over the little bit of counter that was still there to drape on.

Seungkwan looked up at him, warmth and kindness in his gaze, but a pout of concentration on his lips. “Sorry to hear,” he said softly before squinting down at a notation in an old book. “I’ll make you some coffee just now, let me just finish all of this.”

“No need, I still remember where everything is.” Mingyu made his way around to the little kitchen area and looked at all the mixes that had been added in since his last visit. He gave a sigh of relief, made himself a coffee and had just taken a sip when the phone close to him rang. Jerking in fright, he barely got it down on the counter before he knocked against the display of crystals. One right at the end teetered and he dove to catch it, thanking his lucky stars when it landed in his hand instead of shattering on the ground. Large, rose-pink and pretty, it looked to be a good nine inches long, and he drooped as he put it back on the counter under Seungkwan’s disapproving glare.

He didn’t stay to listen to the conversation. Instead he took his coffee somewhere safer, and sipped at it as he waited, trying to ignore the fact that he had heard low laughter for just a bare second.

“That…” Seungkwan said as he ended the call, “could have been very expensive. Watch yourself!”

Mingyu drooped a little more. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “You know how I get.”

Seungkwan snorted expressively. “I know, but you’re not rich enough to pay that back and I’m not getting my pay docked, so stay away from there for now ok?” He bit his lip, expression turning odd. “That was good news though.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t suppose you want a new job?”

Mingyu looked up, round-eyed from surprise. “What do you mean?”

“That was my boss just now. He asked me to put a sign in the window for another worker here. I’m supposed to interview them and all, but…”

Mingyu did his best to give his best friend the puppy eyes. “I’m a good worker!” he said happily. “Even if this place is haunted it’s a nice place, right?”

“I know you are, I…” Seungkwan’s mouth snapped shut before he frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Ah no, the other night when I stood in for you I thought I saw someone in here, and I got such a fright! But there was nothing when I got up my courage to check. And this is an occult bookstore, right? Maybe it was just energy spilling over or something.”

Seungkwan’s lips twitched up. “And maybe you’re just a scaredy-cat,” he teased. “So, you want the job? It pays well, for all that it has long hours. Sometimes you might have to stay late for deliveries, but we’re allowed lunch hours and all the drinks we can drink.”

“Yes!” Mingyu said happily, perkily even. “You’re the best, Kwannie!”

Seungkwan huffed and turned back to the counter. “Of course I am. I’ll show you the back area when it’s my lunch.”

* * *

Three weeks into the job, Mingyu couldn’t be happier. The bookstore had grown on him with its warmth and comfort and quiet. He had discovered more books that he had liked, and his favourite chair became the one he had gotten such a fright over. Lunchtimes – late evening, when there wasn’t such a rush – he plonked down in it to relax over a new game on his phone, or sip at a sturdy travel mug that survived even his clumsiness as the soft music washed over him. It was, as Minghao would attest, the _perfect_ place for a little cheese and wine party, and this spot especially so: always perfectly warm somehow.

Not that… well, not that he was entirely sure there wasn’t a ghost of sorts in here. Seungkwan had laughed at him each time he mentioned it, but the little glimpses had continued: a tall, pale, very quiet ghost somewhere around his age that sometimes knocked stuff over and sometimes even helped out when he missed something. He wasn’t even afraid any longer. Instead, he fantasised sometimes about how it had gotten here, and righted the piles of books he suddenly found, and… well. It felt almost _nice_ , like someone watching over his safety.

His eyes sprang open and his lips tightened as the memory of this afternoon slipped in. He had been in the surprisingly spacious back storage, changing from his clothes into a neat button-down when he fancied he had heard a small in-drawn breath and had turned to look, only for the door to click shut as if someone had passed through. He had blushed naturally – it had definitely not been Seungkwan peeping on him, given they were like brothers – and he had quickly buttoned up his shirt.

It had only reminded him of how virtuously dry his personal life had become, that he had blushed over a _ghost_. Seungkwan had nearly laughed him out of the shop before calling him a pervert; when he had left earlier for a dinner with his boyfriend, Mingyu had pouted and wondered why his neck felt so warm and embarrassed.

“Even if he’s a ghost,” he muttered sulkily to himself, “he’s hot, ok? Just give yourself a damn break.”

He spent the entire break sulking in that chair before going to check that the entryway hadn’t been rained in, and finally settled in at the counter on the little high chair there.

A few nights after that, taking care of dusting a section, he felt the first fleeting touch on his back and jumped around, cheeks scalding. No one, _of course_ , and a customer at the front distracted him enough to forget it. In his mind he wrote off the way his back had wanted to arch into the touch as his very healthy sex-drive dying a slow, mournful death and resolved to go out and get laid.

Several weeks later he had to admit that something was wrong, and this time when he complained to Seungkwan his best friend had almost smacked him.

“So what if your type has changed all of a sudden?” Seungkwan asked sturdily, eyeballing him. “If I were you, I’d worry more about the fact that you’re so hung up over something that’s _not there_ that you can’t get it up.”

Mingyu’s cheeks scalded. Telling Seungkwan that he hadn’t been able to … to get excited about even the people he had tried hitting up had definitely been a mistake.

That night, tired and disconsolate, Mingyu saw his distant, friendly bookstore ghost properly for the first time: he had just wandered around to check that no one loitered in the back when he spotted the silvery glow right at the back. When he checked, heart beating in his chest, he saw a pale, translucent-looking man standing at the back shelf on _onmyodo._ Tall, almost as tall as he was and quite slim but not thin, with the loveliest hands even if they were semi-there: smooth and with excellently defined wrists, slender fingers cradling a book.

His gasp sounded loud and the ghost spun around to look at him. Mingyu turned to run, only hearing the sound of the book falling to the ground as the man disappeared behind him.

The entire rest of the evening he hadn’t dared to go near anything, and had sat obnoxiously in the front, swilling hot drinks and wishing he wasn’t such a scaredy-cat.

It took a long time, nearly another month for the cautious encounters to start again. Mingyu woke from a nap in the back to the feel of someone touching his cheek butterfly-light, and had been too embarrassed to mention it, or the belated White Day chocolates that had somehow popped up under the counter with his name on the label.

He did nothing except smile when he felt the trembling touch in the small of his back, or the tiny reassuring pat on his shoulder. His already-scant love-life totally crashed, lost in the weird fascination he felt for the spectre in the office. Instead, his nights were filled with other types of dreams: sneaking kisses in the back stacks of the bookshop, fingers trailing along his arm as he stretched high to return books, and the warm, lovely feeling of curling up on someone’s lap in the huge wingback that had become his favourite.

* * *

The night stretched long in front of Mingyu and he groaned at the endless reach of it. There was a delivery coming in at two in the morning; Seungkwanie had begged off earlier that day, and even now right after closing that felt like an eternity. Setting the lights in the front very, very dim, he checked all the windows were shut, stared out into the hard rain that signalled the beginning of the wet season and tried not to feel restless and bored.

Seconds later, unwilling to stand there a minute longer, he went to catalogue the things that had arrived that morning: a lovely display of different custom tarot decks, more of the odd candles he still didn’t understand, incense and rare oils – all the things people usually bought when they browsed the shop. His favourite crystal was still there, tucked away in one corner, and he smiled as he trailed fingers over it before closing the case.

There were very few real collectors that came; most of that business seemed done by post these days, so the bookstore made a handy little profit but not _visibly_ , and he found he preferred it that way. The ever-absent Jeon Wonwoo that owned it had never expressed even so much as a desire to see him, but his pay-check arrived every month without fail, with neat little amounts added up here and there to account for the overtime hours he sometimes worked – _that_ had been a small miracle to him, given how scarcely overtime pay happened in Seoul.

No wonder Seungkwan had clung to the job all through high school and university.

The sky grumbled with thunder outside, and the lights dimmed briefly but didn’t disappear. Mingyu’s heart thumped like a wild rabbit still, and he spent a moment breathing the sudden shock out – that had been far closer than he had thought.

A touch gentled up along his neck at exactly the right moment, fleeting enough to not frighten him again, but solid enough to leach the fear from him, as if the ghost wanted to tell him that he was safe. Mingyu trembled at it, breathed in, and trembled again when it glanced over his earlobe before disappearing. A moment later, hesitant, it came again, and this time he tilted his head for it with a happy smile, only to lose it as it trailed into nothingness.

Nothing more happened that night, but the little touches increased apace, became a little bolder as time went on. Sometimes it felt like a fond hand on his knee as he sat at the register, sometimes palms cupping his waist to hold him steady against a fall, and once even a kiss against a blush-touched earlobe after the ghost had spared him from another tumble.

He didn’t mention any of it to Seungkwan: he didn’t want to be called a pervert with an over-active imagination again, and somehow it felt like _his thing_. He didn’t want to share, not at all, so he kept his mouth strictly shut.

Clothing didn’t seem to be a bar to the touches: whenever he felt a pat or a touch it felt warm against his skin, unmuted by cloth; it had frightened him the first few times, but he almost felt as if he was being tamed by the little touches, taught like a skittish pet not to fear affection. Sometimes he dreamt about them whilst he napped; that time he woke to the sensation of butterfly-soft kisses on his eyelids, and deep in his heart he knew he was falling more and more in love with his friendly ghost.

His tastes hadn’t run to tall, dark and handsome before: given his own height he rarely found someone that could match him in height, but they changed so irrevocably that he only knew when he was in the middle of it, and rather despairingly wondered whether he should write a story about it, it seemed the exact kind of thing that would sell well.

* * *

More months passed and before he knew it Chuseok arrived, bringing with it Seungkwan’s trip to Jeju to introduce his long-time boyfriend as his new fiancée. Mingyu’s own family were all overseas on a paid trip to Europe sponsored by the rich overseas cousin in the family, so it stung a little but but didn’t mind spending the three days in the bookstore at all, given how it had become his home.

“Are you sure?” Seungkwan fussed at him. “There’s still time, you can come with us.” Across the counter Hansol murmured agreement, though Mingyu _knew_ that was more as a shield in case Seungkwan’s frankly wonderful mother suddenly decided she didn’t like her potential son-in-law.

“And play third wheel?” Mingyu scoffed. “No thanks. But bring me some of the food and I’ll forgive you. Besides, I’ll have my laptop here for movies, and delivery doesn’t stop around Chuseok.”

Seungkwan stared at him with a frustrated pout, then reached to hug him. “Phone if you have problems,” he ordered. “Immediately.”

Mingyu laughed softly and hugged back. “Yes, yes, just get out of here,” he muttered. “Bye Hansol, drive safe.”

Hansol broke off from staring deeper into the shop, and looked back at him, blinking as if he had to return to reality. “I will, hyung,” he promised. “I’ll bring him back safely.”

They left, taking Seungkwan’s nervous energy with him, and Mingyu heaved a sigh of relief. He wouldn’t be bored, he had meant that, and the hours would be pleasant enough… especially if his ghost decided to show.

His ghost didn’t, not the first day, but found him near the register on the second day. The touch that felt like a caress down his back seemed to apologise, and the butterfly kiss pressed against his nape definitely did. Mingyu’s head drooped forward from the pleasure of it, but jerked up when the bell rang and what looked like a bored gaggle of schoolgirls entered the shop. He greeted them politely, tried to ignore the giggles as they looked at him, and watched them flutter off to the candle display as he nervously sat down again.

Quite suddenly, the touch that had been so light before firmed: right between his shoulder-blades, right on the spot tension normally coiled, a hand pressed warmly enough that he could feel it. Mingyu quivered at it, but could do nothing with customers in the shop, so had to sit there as the ghost trailed more little kisses along his neck. His cheeks steadily turned pinker and he fought not to jump as a chuckle seemed to sound next to his ear; all he could do was stare devotedly away as the feeling of warm lips slipped over his earlobe and began to nibble and suck on it.

He trembled, caught in a nervous feeling that bubbled down to his stomach, tried to ignore fingertips tracing to let invisible, warm hands settle around his waist, and had to sit there as the ghost lazily necked with him, seemingly unconcerned about the fact that there were _people_ in the shop.

The kiss became more languorous as the ghostly imprint of a hot, wet tongue traced over his lobe. Mingyu nearly whined when teeth found his earlobe, and he stammered with a blush to answer the girls’ questions. Luckily the ghost seemed to leave well enough alone when they came back to the counter to pay; he mentally apologised when he told one seemingly-rich girl that the long crystal – his favourite! – wasn’t for sale, but between the traces of arousal in his system and the warm, approving pat on his hip when he did, he didn’t think the ghost would tattle on him.

Not that the ghost _ever_ showed for Seungkwan, it seemed.

He felt relief rush over him when the last of them left. When he put his head down on the counter to whine out loud, he was sure he didn’t imagine the soft, pleased chuckle, no matter that no more kisses came.

Chuseok passed like that, boredom interspersed with the ghost’s little ambushes. It never took things too far, sticking to stolen little touches and teasing kisses that he could pretend through. That first night when he went home he didn’t even think of hooking up with someone to deal with the arousal still simmering. Instead, biting on his knuckle to make sure his cries didn’t disturb the old couple next-door, he stroked himself off, taking it slow and edging himself, until he came with little starbursts in his eyes and his mysterious ghost on the mind.

The second day seemed no different, except that his body felt like an instrument being primed: not too much, just too little, and the very care in it made him feel more loved, _much_ more special.

The third day, when he caught sight of a silvery glow in the back, he didn’t hesitate to flip the sign to ‘Closed for lunch’ and made his way deeper into the stacks. As ever, it felt almost as if they stretched endlessly, but he turned a corner on the familiar place and saw the tall, translucent figure sitting on the huge wingback he loved. He saw the man turn his head to look up at him, saw dark eyes briefly open wider before he got an impossibly sweet smile. He didn’t hesitate. Instead, he went and sat down as well, feeling _something_ support him as he turned to curl up on the tall man’s lap. His eyes closed to the feeling of hands helping his legs stretch sideways over the opposite arm and long, tender touches that petted along his thighs.

Just like that, Chuseok turned into the most wonderful one he had ever had. Somewhere along the teasing, the care, the petting and the kisses, Kim Mingyu fell inexorably for a ghost, and didn’t mind at all that it happened.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional tags: Toys, Nipple Play, Semi-Public, Spanking

Something changed from there on out. His best friend returned from Jeju a radiant man, firmly engaged, and Mingyu was told he’d be best man at the ceremony they’d hold. When he smiled, feeling happy and perfect as if the world just made sense, Seungkwan had looked at him, scolded him for not telling he had fallen in love with anyone, and scoffed with a secret pleased look when Mingyu assured him it was just because he was happy.

Suffering with secret delight at the hug that had earned him, Mingyu quietly made the resolution to go stag to the ceremony, especially since his poor lovely ghost was likely trapped here.

Things went slowly between the two of them; his ghost seemed to like slow, careful steps, but also delighted him with little shocks here and there. His clumsiness grew apace; the first time he felt fingers trail slowly over the arch of his butt in the staff area he nearly brained himself on a locker; that had earned him a secret laugh but no more touches. They grew slowly more adventurous, especially in the late evenings when customers weren’t a genuine threat. Still, the memory of being forced to make coffee and being urged to spread his stance so that ghostly fingers could tease up and down his inner thighs starred in his wank-bank from that night onwards.

Christmas loomed by the time it turned more serious; Seungkwan was so busy preparing for his wedding ceremony that he genuinely didn’t have time to pick up hours at the store, and Mingyu benefited from it.

November arrived, and with it the first snowfall of the new season, before the ghost made his move: it was bitingly cold and dark when Mingyu put his coat on to leave somewhere just before midnight. Hands came from behind him that twisted and pressed him against the counter. Warm, invisible lips kissed his cheek lovingly as his scarf unwound seemingly by itself to droop onto the counter. Moaning softly, Mingyu tilted his head back and felt soft kisses on his throat as the coat floated open and those invisible hands settled on his waist to hold him firm.

Sensation buzzed in his body as his ghost lovingly kissed along one collarbone, sensation burning through the shirt. He hadn’t felt such intense touch in so long that he moaned as the kisses drifted down and hot wetness settled over one small nipple. Something played and tortured it with long lazy licks, until it peaked underneath. “Mmmh,” Mingyu moaned softly, unashamed, and sank further back on his elbows as hands pressed at his waist to urge him a little lower. He lay there, half-collapsed over the counter, legs spreading involuntarily for the feeling of a firm thigh between them, and closed his eyes on the pleasure as lips wreaked havoc with his other nipple.

Invisible hands locked around his hips, digging into the muscle; it startled a moan from Mingyu as he experienced the feeling of being lifted and made to settle on the counter. His legs tried to close around nothing but the faintest, most febrile silver glow before even that failed and he felt his ghost’s mouth on his nipples again. He lay there for what felt like a quarter of an hour, not quite hard but with constant low-level pleasure simmering. Eventually, little kisses simmered down one of his thighs until a last one pressed apologetically against his knees and all touches faded.

He had to recover for another five minutes before he wobbled home at the stroke of midnight, so pleasure-flushed and happy that he didn’t even feel the biting snow. That night, just to feel the remembered sting of little bites on his nipples, he pressed his chest down on his mattress and lifted his hips, fingering himself as he rubbed ceaselessly against the cool tease of his sheets.

Even the next day, the remembered pleasure had him taking extra care before he went in to the shop: he showered thoroughly and cleaned himself with nervous fingers, experiencing a brief, trembling little orgasm right there in the shower as he wondered if there really was something like ghosts seducing people.

His answer came later that night: right as he was wrapping up and tying a bow around an old lady’s purchase, he felt the trail of cool, teasing fingers slip to bite into the flesh of one butt cheek before those cool fingers slipped into the crack there. His cheeks flushed red when they hesitated, and the old lady warned him not to get a cold before they slipped forward and inwards, teasing briefly against his rim before seeking downwards to rub at the too-sensitive spot in his perineum. He gasped and stuttered, embarrassed as hell, as the purchase wound down and the old lady left; the moment she was out of the shop he collapsed against the counter and canted his hips up for more of the smooth, sweet touches.

The invisible fingers seemed to heat the longer they played with him, but did little else, just the slow, sweet grind of fingertips into his perineum. They left him moments later – he nearly cursed with how close he had been to finally climaxing – and nothing happened for the rest of the shift no matter how he posed, or how he glared longingly at nothing. It was only after he had locked up and gone to rearrange books that customers had displaced that he felt his ghost near again: this time he was urged forward to press against the shelf of books. Their dusty scent filled his nose as his hands scrabbled for purchase on the shelf, and a ghostly foot tapped his feet.

Mingyu immediately slipped his feet wider, then wider still; he shivered as he posed like that, cheeks stinging from the fact that he might still be visible inside if anyone even cared to look. His ghost didn’t seem to care; instead, the trail of warm fingertips came again, and this time the scent of vanilla filled his nostrils as one thumb pressed at his rim, testing his resistance. There was a lot – he hadn’t had any lovers for almost a year, with only his occasional touches to encourage his body to stretch. Swallowing, he reached down and undid his belt, shoving his jeans and underwear down a little before canting his hips hungrily again.

His ghost paused for a moment before the sensation of something sticky slid between his cheeks; the renewed scent of vanilla made him think of the oils in the shop. He moaned softly for it, mind spinning as he was slowly, safely opened up. His rim was made to stretch for the slim, invisible fingers, and he had nearly gotten off on the pleasure of it before the touches stopped and withdrew. “No,” he whimpered sweetly. “No, I want it, give me more…”

Something large and fat pressed against his little pucker, stretching it again; it didn’t quite feel like a cock but speared him open nonetheless, fucking him smoothly and slowly. He reached down, desperate for precum from his bobbing erection not to touch the books, and writhed and shivered as his ghost took him apart comprehensively. Whatever was in him began to buzz faintly, and the feeling of that against his prostate took him apart. He came desperately, turning his head for sticky kisses as he came again and again into his own hands.

A tongue slowly tangled around his, hands petting him safe and warm and back to his senses. The thing in him didn’t shift, wasn’t pulled out before his underwear and pants were pulled up again. It remained in him, hefty and still shivering faintly, as hands came to turn him around. In front of his flagging eyelids, the cum on his hands were licked up by an invisible tongue. One finger reached through his clothes, tapped the base of the thing inside him again, and vibrations exploded: he nearly came again as it pushed him dangerously close to over-stimulation.

That night, he fought not to hump and rock his hips around the thick, solid thing still inside him, and had to pay the taxi driver very quickly to get out safely. His cheeks were fiery red as he slowly walked up the two flights of steps to his apartment’s level. When he unlocked his door he felt so close that he slammed it close, sank down on his knees in the hallway and hurriedly yanked his pants and underwear down again. There, seated thickly but comfortably with the still-slippery fragrant oil, he felt crystal and groaned long and low, knowing exactly what was inside him.

He reached to fuck himself on the pink crystal, coming twice before he collapsed on the hall floor, panting and shaking. Late that night, after another shower, he worked it back into him, thought of his ghost and fell asleep like that.

* * *

“I’m going stag,” Mingyu said metedly to Seungkwan as they sat completing the last of the arrangements. “I’ve already worked on my speech but I don’t want to take anyone with. That’s final, Kwan-ah, don’t ask again.”

Seungkwan pouted at him, clearly unhappy and worried, but gave in with a small sigh. “Look, at least would it be okay if you sat next to Nonie’s wedding party? He has a friend coming that’s also going to be alone, she’s a great girl, and her girlfriend can’t come to the party.”

Mingyu reached to thumb at the worried frown on Seungkwan’s face. “Sure,” he said, relaxing. “That’ll be fine.” Deep inside, he wished he could ask his lovely ghost to accompany him, but he wasn’t even sure how that would work, and any arrangement that didn’t involve him making nice with someone interested was good.

The ceremony turned out _wonderful_ even this close to Christmas. Even though the wedding wasn’t strictly legal that didn’t stop anyone from partying. Hansol’s friend turned out to be pretty and screamingly bitchy, with the kind of dry humour that had him in stitches. He drank more than he should, and was halfway to the shop before he realised he had given the taxi driver the wrong address. Instead, shivering as he unlocked the shop, he hurried into the warmth and locked it behind him again. “Are you here?” he called.

The force that grabbed him took and spun him around in a gentle vortex, dragging him across the floor and to the big chair in the back. There, glimmering a sullen silver, sat his ghost, who reached arms and let whatever force had him spin him into his arms, until he sat on his lap surrounded by his arms.

“You’re here,” a low, soft voice muttered into his ear before pecks settled on his brow and eyelids. “And you smell of alcohol.”

“Champagne,” Mingyu said happily, feeling somehow that his ghost was realer than ever. “It was a hell of a party. I wish you could have been there.”

His ghost didn’t answer. Instead he hugged him, burying his face into his neck. Unlike other times, he seemed to still in seconds, and when he pulled back he was more silvery-present than ever. “You smell of a woman,” he scolded, frown supremely clear on his face. “I thought you didn’t go with anyone.”

Mingyu shivered at the low, possessive note. “I danced a bit with Hansol’s one friend – neither of us had our partners there. Hers was in the States and mine was…” He broke off to pat the solid chest beneath his hand. “Mine was here.”

His ghost stared at him before he pulled Mingyu closer. His kiss wasn’t gentle and sweet but fierce instead. It dominated Mingyu’s mouth until his head lolled aimlessly against the wingback chair and all he could think of was the sure, fiery press of the gifted tongue in his mouth. “Mmmh,” he purred afterwards, reaching up to touch his kiss-swollen lips. “Mmh, were you jealous?” he teased, grinning wider as the dark eyes across from him glared at him. For a second he thought he saw real, fleshy colour there before the force from earlier spun him around and draped him over his ghost’s lap like a naughty child.

“Are you really still in the mood to tease me?” his ghost demanded, voice cooler. “Obviously I still am. You’re _mine_. I…” He broke off as his hand landed neatly on Mingyu’s trim butt, fingertips glancing over something that made Mingyu squirm and blush. “What…”

Mingyu obediently lifted his butt a little as his ghost encouraged him up; his pants and underwear were whisked off immediately, and a trembling touch came to the nub of pink quartz that stretched his tiny pucker wide open. “I…” Mingyu panted, then swallowed, feeling arousal surge inside him. “I wear it to remind me of you.”

“Oh, my love,” his ghost murmured, voice impossibly fond. His fingertips bit in, pulling the quartz crystal a little bit out, before sliding it home again.

Mingyu put his head down and whimpered at the slow, teasing little movements. They did nothing to help him stave off arousal, but wasn’t enough to push him over the edge either; instead, the body-warm crystal merely reminded him of what he never had before. “Please,” he gasped softly. “If you’re not going to… don’t tease.”

His ghost’s soft laughter came before he pushed the crystal deep back into him. “Naughty boys get teased,” he murmured, tapping on the base once with a whispered, strange word. “Let’s see if we can make this a little better.”

Mingyu cried out, back arching, as the crystal inside him _changed_ ; it grew fatter and differently shaped, until a broad mushroomed head sat thickly in him. Another touch set it to vibrating again, and he nearly drooled on his hand as a warm hand came to cup his butt.

“How many times did you dance with other people?” his ghost asked.

Fighting to concentrate through the singing pleasure pressed against his prostate, Mingyu swallowed thickly. He hadn’t really, but if his ghost was intent… “Ten,” he muttered, and was rewarded when the hand lifted to impact harshly on his muscled cheek, stinging deeply. “Ah!” he shouted, eyes pinching shut. “Sorry! I’m sorry!” he squealed, secretly too happy to feel terrible.

“Count,” his ghost ordered implacably, and warmed the other side of his butt for him.

Whining and wriggling happily, Mingyu counted to ten loudly, then gasped and moaned as he got another ten for allowing a woman to hug him so tightly her perfume transferred onto him. He was crying at the end of it, not because of the pain, but the sheer arousal of it; when his ghost picked him up to straddle his waist he went willingly, rutting forward eagerly as he wrapped his legs and arms around him. In the end, pearly cum stained the inside of his shirt as he came just like that, warm and happy and utterly in love.

He drifted for a little until he felt his ghost place little kisses on his cheeks, drying his tears. Opening his eyes, he wanted to thank him and ask for another kiss when fright tore through him. Beneath him, encircled in his arms and legs, an entirely real person sat, warm and coloured in human shades, and with none of that silvery glow to him. Shouting in surprise, he kicked and fell backwards, landing perfectly on his pink, paddled butt. The crystal pushed deeper into him – thankfully not too deeply! – and he gave a creel of pleasure-pain as he looked up at the man with wide eyes.

“What?” the man asked him, dark eyes narrowed with worry. “What’s going on, love, why did you?” His tongue clicked. “Are you really this clumsy? Come on, let me help you up.”

Heart thudding, Mingyu scooted away on his butt, shivering at the pleasure of the carpet on his poor, stinging butt. “Who are you?” he asked, eyes wide. “Where’s my ghost? What the hell? How’d you get in here?”

The man looked at him, eyes wide as well, before he sat back on his chair and laughed. Rumble after rumble, deep belly laughter. “Oh my god, there was never a ghost, love. It was always me. Honestly, who else would I be?” He paused, then reached a hand down to a very naked Mingyu. “I’m Jeon Wonwoo,” he said softly and sweetly, pulling Mingyu back up. “Come on, the floor is cold.”

Mingyu went with, so confused that he was settled back on his… person’s… lap before he knew it. “Normal people don’t glow or turn invisible,” he said suspiciously, shivering as hands tugged his discarded coat around his shoulders. “Or, um, intangible.”

Wonwoo tilted his head at him, arms moving to settle around Mingyu’s waist. “They do if they’re magicians, even stupid ones.”

The sense-memory was so accurate – Mingyu had been hugged by arms like these dozens of times. His waist turned weak and trembly, and he slouched a little more comfortably. “Magic doesn’t exist,” he said suspiciously, ignoring the hands that pulled his legs straight so he could sit sideways on Wonwoo’s lap.

That gained him a small kiss to his nose. “Magic exists all around you,” Wonwoo lectured softly. “I thought this bookstore would have told you that. The fact is, a very long time ago I cast a foolish spell and accidentally locked myself in an intangible, invisible state – exactly like the ghost you thought me at first. There was only one thing that could unlock that state and make me real and living again – the thing I had cast the spell for in the first place.”

Mingyu melted under the little kisses and the explanation, curling up a bit more securely. “What was that?” he asked. “And why could Seungkwanie never see you?”

Wonwoo smiled down at him, secret and lovely. “I cast it to attract my soulmate,” he admitted. “And Seungkwanie was never my soulmate, love. _That_ is the entirely accident-prone, entirely lovely man I have on my lap now. Your continued presence throughout all those nights working wore away at the spell, chipped at it until I became more and more visible.

Trembling at his words, Mingyu reached up to kiss him softly, sweetly. “Really?” he asked happily.

“Really,” Wonwoo answered. “Do you think I’d do what I did to you to anyone else? Have I ever done it to Seungkwan, or have you ever heard rumours of it happening to older staff? I’ve been here waiting for you for a long time, Kim Mingyu, and now that I have you I don’t fancy not having you.” He buried his face into Mingyu’s neck, bit delicately at the sweaty stretches of it. “Especially not right now. All I’ve fantasised about the past months has been finally making you mine.” He pulled back to grin wickedly at Mingyu. “I couldn’t give you a ring like modern people do, but I did give you something else, right?”

Mingyu’s cheeks stung as he thought of the thick shaft of crystal still deep inside him. “I hope that’s modelled on the real thing now,” he said.

Wonwoo laughed at him again, and kissed him again, this time until his toes curled. “It’s not,” he said cockily. “But now that the spell’s broken all the way, I look forward to letting you compare.” He paused. “Be mine? Even if we still need to talk, and I have tons to explain?”

This time it was Mingyu’s heart that felt as if it constricted. “How can I say no to a man that gave me an engagement dildo?” he asked, laughing and happier than he’s ever been before. “Do you have a lair around here?”

As it turned out, Wonwoo did indeed have a lair, and showed him over and over why the real thing was much better than the fake.

**Author's Note:**

>   * Head-canon: though Mingyu is not magical himself, magic is still working behind the scenes. 
>   * Mingyu wasn't the only one that could see Wonwoo. Hansol could as well, but Wonwoo swore him to secrecy. 
> 



End file.
